


catch the sunlight

by beskars



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Character Study, Drabble, F/M, Holding Hands, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Tumblr Prompt, some softness for my boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:02:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24441028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beskars/pseuds/beskars
Summary: “We’re designed to be disposable.” - Rex x Reader
Relationships: CT-7567 | Rex & Reader, CT-7567 | Rex/You
Comments: 4
Kudos: 40





	catch the sunlight

**Author's Note:**

> find me writing and crying over star wars at beskars on Tumblr !

catch the sunlight

  
  


You sat at the kitchen table with a stomach full of knots, watching the patch of sunlight on the wall slowly turn from pale yellow to fiery orange until it finally faded away into the dusk. The starklebirds had begun their evening lullaby outside, and if you strained your ears, you could just hear the gentle rustle of leaves from the trees that encircled your small farm joining them. Any other evening, you would have been out on the front stoop to listen, watching the fireflies provide a visual accompaniment to the sundown symphony.

Tonight, you sat paralyzed by the thought of the man in your barn and the promise of bloodshed he had brought with him. His men had brought him to the farm after he had taken a nasty hit from some commando droids, and though you had been wary of what sort of company his presence would invite, you couldn’t bring yourself to refuse them. The rest of them had departed on speeders after patching him up, and you had returned inside, leaving him to rest amongst the eopei stables, wanting to put as much distance as you could between this omen of war and yourself.

As the room dimmed around you, you felt your stomach give an impatient rumble, and you finally rose to your feet, pulling a few pieces of fruit from the bowl on the counter. Your hands shook slightly as you sliced them into small pieces, arranging them on a platter and setting it down at the table. But as you made to sit back down, a new feeling joined your hunger, a pang of guilt that gnawed just as insistently at your insides. Setting your jaw, you picked your meal back up and gathered it in your arms as you strode to the door before you could give yourself time to reconsider. 

The ground was still soft from the most recent rainfall beneath your boots, yielding with each step as you made your way to the barn and ducked into the entryway. There was a flurry of movement from the work table the man lay on, and you heard him let out a low grunt of pain as he reached for the blaster by his side. You stilled, balancing the platter on one hand as you raised the other in a gesture of peace, and he ceased his fumbling.

“I thought you might be hungry,” you said by way of explanation as he pushed himself up to his elbows, his face twisted in a grimace of pain. “It’s Rex, isn’t it?”

“Yes. I...thank you, that’s very kind of you,” he replied hesitantly, appreciation rising above the discomfort in his voice. 

You set the platter down beside him, leaning back on your heels and crossing your arms over your chest, the quiet shuffle of the eopies the only sound before you spoke again.

“Do you need help?” you asked, watching as he shifted into a seated position, wincing with each movement. 

“I can manage, thank you,” he answered, regaining his composure and speaking in a clipped tone, as though he was addressing a fellow soldier. 

You nodded, turning towards the eopie closest to you and giving him a small pat on the head, trying to give the man a bit of privacy as he began to eat one of the slivers of fruit.

“I hope to be recovered enough to be on my way tomorrow,” he told you quietly, and you glanced over to meet his gaze. 

“You’ll be healed by then?” you questioned skeptically, your brows furrowing as you took in the bacta patch on his chest and the sling cradling his arm. 

“Healed enough,” he replied, giving a small shrug with his uninjured side.

“You can stay longer if you need, but--” you offered, stopping yourself before you could finish the thought.

“But you’d rather I didn’t,” he supplied, one side of his mouth twitching up as he reached for another slice of fruit. “Thankfully for you, I don’t have the luxury of waiting until I’m completely recovered, so I’ll be out of your way as quickly as I can.”

“Look, it’s nothing against you,” you said, biting your lip as you mulled over how to continue. “But I can’t have you bringing the war to my doorstep.”

“All due respect, but I didn’t bring the war to Saleucami, Grievous did,” he answered with practiced evenness, trying to stifle the note of affront you detected. “We’re here trying to ensure that your planet stays a peaceful one. Or at least I was until I got shot.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” you told him quietly, guilt twisting in your stomach again as you hoisted yourself up onto the edge of the work table. “I know I should probably be thanking you.”

He looked at you for a long moment, his dark brows drawing together over eyes the same light brown color as your morning cup of tea when it caught the sunlight.

“Thanking me for what?” he asked eventually, sounding genuinely puzzled.

“Trying to keep the peace. Or rather, end the war,” you said, stumbling slightly over your poor attempt at gratitude. 

“Just doing my duty,” he told you, the answer coming to him with practiced ease but spoken with slight uncertainty. 

“Doesn’t mean I can’t thank you for it,” you replied, offering him a small smile that quickly gave way to a look of embarrassment as your stomach gave a loud grumble.

“Sounds like you could use some of this,” he remarked, pushing the platter of fruit toward you as his lips quirked up ever so slightly.

Taking a piece and biting into it as delicately as you could, you held a hand beneath your chin to catch the juice that ran down it as you considered him.

“You’re not used to people thanking you,” you said, and he gave an uncomfortable shrug.

“Like I said, just doing my duty,” he replied quietly, and you frowned, setting the unfinished piece of fruit back down.

“Do you ever hate us?” you blurted out, flushing slightly as his gaze snapped up to meet yours.

“What?” he asked, somewhere between startled and alarmed as he sat up a little straighter, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly.

“I mean, you were created to fight a war for people who don’t even thank you for it. I think I’d be angry,” you told him, watching as his face fell slightly before he gave it a tiny shake, his lips pursing.

“If it wasn’t for the war, I wouldn’t be here at all,” he said shortly, and you relented for a moment, biting down on your lower lip nervously. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you upset,” you offered quietly, and his expression softened, giving you a glimpse of the boy he had once been before the battle had hardened his face to stone. “I don’t often have company all the way out here, maybe I’ve forgotten how to have a conversation.”

“No, it’s alright. It’s a good distraction,” he replied, his lips lifting up in a little smile as he gestured at his chest and injured arm with his free hand. 

“What will you do when the war’s over?” you questioned, curiosity getting the better of you even as you silently admonished yourself for prying.

“Haven’t thought that far ahead yet,” he answered, shrugging his good side. “Got to win it first.”

“You’ve never thought about it?” you persisted, and he shook his head immediately, going for silent for several moments.

“We’re designed to be disposable. We aren’t supposed to want anything after this,” he told you quietly, and you felt something deep in your chest splinter at the matter of fact way he said it. 

No words seemed strong enough to stand up to this monstrous truth, that he knew he had been created just to die for someone else’s cause. There was nothing you could tell him that would convey the way your heart was breaking for him. So instead, you reached out slowly, the way you would approach a frightened eopei, and took his hand in your own. 

“Is this okay?” you asked as he looked down in surprise, waiting until he nodded to thread your fingers together, pressing your palm to his.

“It’s...nice,” he finally replied, the words catching in his throat, giving a small cough as if to dislodge them. 

Silence fell between you once more as you listened to the shuffle of the eopei and the rustle of trees that seemed to murmur the comforting words that you couldn’t find. 

“Maybe I’ll become a farmer,” he said quietly, and you looked at him in surprise, a slight smile flitting across your lips. 

You didn’t press him to finish the thought, wondering if it was his first time ever voicing any hope for a future beyond the war. It certainly sounded like it, from the way he just barely whispered the words, as if he was afraid of someone hearing them. Whether he meant them earnestly or not was irrelevant; that he had allowed himself to consider the possibility at all was enough. His eyes were beginning to droop with exhaustion now, and you felt his hand sliding from your grasp, carefully disentangling your fingers from his.

“I’ll leave you to get some rest,” you told him, hopping down from the work table and clearing away the partially-finished plate of fruit.

He nodded, slowly reclining onto his back with a small noise of discomfort, and you had to fight an unbidden urge to reach for him again as your heart twinged. Forcing the feeling down, you made your way to the door, stopping at the invisible threshold in the marshy ground. You turned back around, swallowing the dryness in your throat, praying you would find the right words as you spoke.

“Rex?” you asked softly, watching as his head lifted up slightly from the table.

“Yes?” he replied, his voice low and drowsy as he looked at you with brown eyes that you hoped would catch the sunlight one morning and no longer be full of weariness.

“Saleucami is a good place to start a farm.”

  
  
  



End file.
